Aleriel; or, a Voyage to other worlds. A tale, etc

Preface

. WHEN children are shown the wonders of the heavens, for the first time, in the telescope, their natural exclamation usually is, " Are there any people up there in those planets ?" It is an old question, and the affirmative answer is rather supported than overturned by the discoveries of modern science. When we are told that everything almost that we can see on Earth — yea, every particle of dust — has once lived, we are inclined to think that the same law which seems to be the dominant law of Earth, i.e., that nearly all things on Earth's surface either have lived or are now living, may perchance be the general law of the universe. Our Earth is singular in nothing. In size, the giant planets Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and VI A Voyage to Other Worlds. Neptune are much larger ; Mercury, Mars, the planetoids, and the satellites much smaller; Venus, our twin-sister world, almost the same.

In form, the Earth is nearly a sphere, and so are all, or nearly all, its fellowworlds ; some are more flattened at the poles, and some less. The Earth is enveloped in an atmosphere, — so it seems are Venus, Mercury, Mars, and probably the giant planets Jupiter and Saturn., The earth has continents and oceans, — so have Mars and (probably) Venus. The Earth has snow in winter, — so it seems has Mars. The Earth possesses a satellite, — so do Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune possess their satellites. In fact, the Earth is peculiar in nothing which we might expect to trace in other worlds. Why should we suppose it to be the sole abode of life ? This subject has been much discussed. Not to speak of the older astronomers, in our own time Proctor, Flammarion, Brewster, and Powell have discussed it.

I must own that the objections have ever seemed to me to be most frivolous. Can this grain on the sands of infinity— this little planet of an unimportant system — be the sole abode of vitality ? But, if there be life, what life ? This is a question which has occupied many of the noblest of human minds. Man cannot know Preface. VII absolutely, in this his Earth-life, what the life of other worlds may be. On Nature's Alps I stand And see a thousand firmaments beneath, — A thousand systems as a thousand grains ; So much a stranger and so late arrived, How shall man's curious spirit not inquire What are the natives of this world sublime, Of this so distant interrestrial sphere, Where mortal untranslated never stray'd 1 * Probably the best conception of this matter is that suggested by Messrs. Nasmyth and Carpenter, in their valuable work on the Moon, where they say, " Is it not conceivable that the protogerms of life pervade the whole universe, and have been located on every planetary body therein ?"

In the Moon, circumstances seem to be unfavourable to life ; but it is a mere begging the question to assume that this is the law of every orb in heaven save this earth of ours. In the following tale or speculation (as you choose to take it), although apparently I have given no rein to the imagination, yet I have endeavoured to avoid as much as possible any conflict with established scientific discoveries ; and, indeed, have based my speculations on the * Young. known facts of astronomy, only allowing the fancy to have free play where science is, and must be, unable, in its present state, to answer the questions here considered. If there are any statements which are found to be irrecon cilable with any of the recent discoveries of inductive science, I shall be much obliged to any scientific reader to draw my attention to them, and they shall be corrected in a future edition.

It will be noticed by the reader that, to give it more human interest, and also to ventilate some practical subjects, there are two Utopias in this book — the one in which there is a speculation as to a perfect society of perfect happiness, such as may be regarded as a meditation on the possible joys of a future state ; the other a more practical Utopia, implying the tendencies of human progress, and suggesting improve ments for human society as it now exists. The other worlds beside these two (Venus and Mars) have no special earth-lesson to teach ; they are little more than bold deductions from observations or probabilities suggested by them. I have by no means assumed, as some extreme partisans of the habitability of other worlds are wont to do, that all the planets are inhabited. I rather suppose that Earth at Preface.

IX present is merely an example of one phase of planetary development, i.e., one in which life can exist ; that some worlds are like it (though none in precisely the same condition) ; that others are as yet in a primitive state, just as the Earth was in the period of, say, the secondary formations ; that others, however, are more highly developed than this world ; and, finally, that in others life is extinct. This ideal is much the same as that of Oersted, who says : " On some planets the creatures may be possibly on a far larger scale, on others far smaller, than on our own ; on some, per haps, they are formed of less solid matter, or may, indeed, approach the transparency of ether ; or, on others again, be formed of much denser matter. The rational creatures on some of the planets may be capable of receiving far quicker, more acute, and more distinct impres sions than on the Earth.

We may imagine that there are reasonable beings with weaker facul ties than our own" (as I have in these pages supposed to be the case) ; "but, if we properly appreciate our present distance from the aspi rations of our reason, we feel compelled to acknowledge that an endless number of degrees of development may exist above the! point we have reached." X I have further supposed that no two worlds are alike in their developments of vitality, just as no two are alike as seen in the telescope, nor in their apparent physical characteristics. Yet, as in all the solar system there is an underlying unity of design, so I have supposed that "unity in diversity" is the law of vitality as well as of matter, and thus that the life in each of our sister-worlds is like some form or other of life to be found on Earth, just as the fact has been revealed to us by the spectroscope that the same metallic and gaseous elements as we find about us on Earth exist even in distant stars.

Thus I have supposed that the life in other worlds is like what we find on earth, but that in each world there is a distinct development. In the apportionment of each such development to divers worlds, I have sup posed that the physical constitution of each world, as far as we know it, affects the form of life upon it. As to the theological question of God's deal ings with the inhabitants of other worlds, I have hardly presumed to touch the subject. These things we can only know when we see no more as "in a glass darkly, but face to face "; and it seems to me that those who have ventured to speculate on it, as Kircher or Swedenborg, have exceeded propriety. Preface. XI The pessimism of my hero also requires some apology. I appeal, however, to my reader's intelligence, whether anv one coming from a happier world, and seeing the anomalies and misery of Earth, would not be shocked and pained ?

As it is, the pessimism of Aleriel is not stronger than that of the Wise King in Ecclesiastes, nor of many ancient and modern philosophers. It is not nearly so bitter as that of Byron. With regard to the resemblances to other works of this character, e.g., Swedenborg, Fontenelle, Lord Lytton, &c, I may say frankly that I have not copied, consciously at least, from any one. If resemblances occur, they may be attributed to the fact that two minds have come by diverse paths to the same conclusion, and that conclusion has therefore something to be said for it — which is all one can say for an obscure speculation of this nature. The fabric of the work is a continuation ot my "Voice from Another World," a short resume of part of which I have given in the Trehyndra letter, to make the argument plain.

I must add that the dramatis personæ are, ol course, purely imaginary. In conclusion, I must ask my readers to consider the work as a whole, and not condemn it entirely if they find some one passage opposed to their preconceived notions. I can hardly expect any one to agree with me in all points. I trust, however, that this seemingly fantastic tale may encourage the young to study in more serious works the facts of astronomical science, and perhaps cheer their elders with the thought that, though much is sad on Earth, yet there may be brighter worlds than this, and a happier existence than we can have here. Earth is not the Universe, and our life here is not eternity. CONTENTS.

Part I. Chapter

I. The Hunchback of Mont St. Gabriel... page 1 II. Besieged in Paris 8 III. The Escape 14 IV. London 22 V. Oxford 29 VI. A Love Chapter 34 VII. A Strange Letter 42 Part II.— THE MYSTERIOUS DOCUMENT. I. Aleriel's Journey Home — The Moon 64 II. Copernicus 71 III. Welcome Home 73 IV. Earth as Others See it 82 V. A Strange Proposal Part III.— MARS.

Chapter I

The Voyage through Space page 97 II. The Ice Island 100 III. Tycho Island 106 IY. A Martian Instructor 114 V. The Ocean Capital 126 VI. The Voyage of Circumnavigation 139 VII. The Feast 149 Part IV— THE GIANT WORLD. I. Deimos, and the Voyage from Mars through Space 155 II. First Impressions 162 III. The Ocean World 169 IV. The Land of Fire I".-, Part V.— SATURN. L TlTA* 179 II. Saturn jgg III. Return Contents. XV Part VI.— CONCLUSION.

CHAPTER I.

Consideration page 197 II. Jungfrau 200 III. A Night with Unearthly Friends 206 IV. Explanations • 210 V Adieu 213 NOTES. The Moon — Venus — Mars— Jupiter

PART I.

—

CHAPTER I. THE HUNCHBACK OF MONT ST.

GABRIEL. IT was a lovely morning in the June of 1870, when I left the little town of B , in Brittany, for a walk to the neighbouring hill of Mont St. Gabriel, where there was a cele brated old chapel, commonly counted as one of the sights of the neighbourhood. I had just left Oxford for the vacation, and was refreshing myself, after a term's hard work, by a walking tour in France. My companion, Galton, had sprained his foot, and was staying at the hotel resting himself for the day, but I was unwilling to miss this opportunity of seeing Mont St. Gabriel ; so I started on the morning's walk of some four kilometres alone. It was a quiet and somewhat desolate route, and many thoughts about the past and future u and eternity came unbidden before my mind. But I need not trouble my readers with them, for they have little directly to do with my story ; they were, however, afterwards indelibly fixed on my memory.

I at length reached the little promontory running into the sea, on which Mont St. Gabriel stands. I climbed over some rocks which bounded the path and made my way up to the picturesque and antique chapel, now ruined. The view was splendid. The blue sea adorned here and there by little ridges of silver foam, the wild rocky coast, the crying of the sea-gulls, and the low roar of the ocean, all tended to awe me, and then to quiet my mind into a calm reverie. " How beautiful is this world ! " I thought. " I wonder if there is anything that can exceed in loveliness such scenes as these, or the glorious Alps, or the splendid rough Cornish coast in a storm, or the lake districts of the north. This world is very beautiful." I am afraid I must have been giving way to the bad habit I sometimes have when quite alone of talking to myself, for suddenly I was aroused by a slight rustling behind me.

I turned, and a very singular-looking person met my gaze. He was a very short fair young The Hunchback of Mont St. Gabriel. 3 man, greatly deformed about the shoulders. He was dressed in a common ouvrier,s cos tume, with a large Breton hat and a cloak thrown over his blouse. His face, however, in spite of his coarse costume and manifest deformity, was of exquisite refinement and even beauty. His complexion was fair as a girl's, but pale even to bloodlessness. His eyes, though somewhat obscured by the hat, were most strange and brilliant. His features small and delicate. He had neither mous tache nor beard, and scarcely looked above twenty. He was gazing at the sea, and though near me appeared not to notice my presence. For several minutes I remained silently looking at the waters, with, I must own, an occasional glance at my companion.

" Poor fellow," I said to myself; " what a singular malformation about the shoulders. I never saw anything like it before. And, then, how deadly pale he is, and so refined, in spite of that peasant's dress. Perhaps he is some gentleman in distress ; some unfortunate student who has failed in life's battle." And then a dreadful thought seized me. " I hope he is not meditating suicide, or he is not mad. In either case I am in an awkward position in b this lonely spot, in a strange country, with a madman or one in utter despair." But when I looked again at that strange meditating face the thought was dispelled. He was thoughtful, but not at all sad ; nor was there either the excited or the sullen look of mania about those intellectual eyes. But still he looked on, silently watching the sea. I was immensely puzzled, and was getting quite uncomfortable, for Galton had been entertaining me the evening before with a whole series of horrid Breton legends about the " White Lady," and the ghosts and the signs of death ; and really here was a personage who, if he had been met at night, might have been easily taken for a revenant.

But it was not night, and the sun was shining brightly, and the - shadow of this stranger's curious figure was clearly defined on the chapel wall. At last I thought it was useless and un courteous to thus pretend not to heed him, and that it would be better to speak. So I broke the silence with a polite bow and a " Bonjour, monsieur." "Good morning, sir; you are English, are you not?" he said, in a very sweet and clear contralto voice, and a singular but pleasing foreign accent. The Hunchback of Mont St. Gabriel. 5 " Yes," I said, " and am very glad you can talk with me in my native language. May I ask also if you are French, or a stranger to this country? " " Un etranger, monsieur," he said in French, and then relapsed into silence. So it was evident that he knew both French and English, and was neither French nor English.

What countryman was he ? The voice, the accent, and the manner were as strange as the appearance of my new acquaintance, and gave me no clue. My question seemed to have silenced him, and, for several minutes again, he appeared to have no wish to renew our conversation. At length I broke the silence. "You speak English well for a foreigner. Have you ever been in our country ?" " Never, sir, but I much wish to visit it. I have been told it is a land of liberty and progress, that there is much that is noble and good in your country. There is a great deal that is sad to see in other parts of Europe — misery, oppression, and sorrow. I should like to see. a happier land in this world. Perhaps England is such — perhaps it is," he added, after a pause. " They say your country is rich. I hope that the many have the benefit of that wealth, and not the few."

"I am afraid we cannot say that. There are great disparities in England as in other lands. How do you like France ? I may ask you ; for you say you are not a Frenchman." "A gay, pleasure-loving nation, wanting in gravity, in stability, in religious sentiment. France lives too much for the present and not enough for the future — not enough in the past. It is selfish and proud, and pride oftentimes precedes a fall. The Latin races seem growing effete. They have had their day. The Teu tonic races may have the present and the immediate future. However, I cannot tell. The state of Germany is sad, though not as sad as France." The intelligence of his remarks touched me. I looked down at his worn and almost ragged trousers. It seemed to me sad that one so intelligent and educated should be a mere peasant and in want.

After some momentary misgivings, as I rose to return to B , I resolved to do something to aid him. I put my hand in my pocket, and, blushing, offered him a five-franc piece. " My dear sir, perhaps you want this more than I — pardon me in offering it." He took it, smiled, and simply The Hunchback of Mont St. Gabriel. 7 said : " Thank you, sir ; if I can return your kindness I will. We may meet again." "Adieu," I said, "I hope we may meet again." I bowed, and left him still standing gazing on the sea.

Chapter II. Besieged In Paris

I WENT up to Paris by the next morning's train, Galton, whose foot was much better, accompanying me. His walking tour was necessarily terminated by his accident, and so, as I did not wish to lionise Brittany alone, we resolved to stay a little while in Paris together. The gay city looked gay as ever — bright, cheer ful, and frivolous. How few in those two millions dreamt of the catastrophe hanging over them, an unseen Damocles' sword sus pended by a hair in the midst of all that gaiety and splendour. I am sure I as little foresaw the peril to Paris as any one, nor, still worse, the catastrophe hanging over myself. * * * * One morning, just as the papers were getting excited about the Spanish succession question, I thought it would be a pleasant change to have a trip to Versailles. Galton had gone off" to Brussels that morning, so I was left alone.

Besieged in Paris. 9 I little dreamt of what that little trip would cost me. We had just got to near Sevres station, when, in a moment, I heard a tremendous crash, the panels and roof of my carriage fell in masses about me, and amidst the screams of the passengers, the wounded and the fright ened, I felt a sudden blow and then an intense agony in my leg, and then * * * * I will not dwell on that painful time at the Hopital de S. Clotilde. I was put in the acci dent ward, and must say that I shall ever feel grateful to the careful and kind nurses and doctors who attended me. My injuries were tedious and painful rather than dangerous ; my leg was fractured, and the shock of the acci dent had shaken my nervous system. While in the hospital I heard the patients one day talking of a remarkably able young doctor, whose wonderful cures were attracting great attention in medical circles.

I listened with avidity to these stories, and resolved directly I was able to consult him. In a few days I was well enough to be removed to my hotel in the Rue Pelletiere. Here, directly I was ensconced in my own chamber, I wrote a note to Dr. Posela (the young doctor of whom I had heard so much in the hospital) asking him to come and see me. In about a couple of hours after my note was sent, the gar con announced Dr. Posela. He entered, and, to my astonishment, I beheld again my deformed little friend of Mont St. Gabriel. He was now somewhat better dressed, but, though the day was warm, was wrapped up in a cloak. There was the same soft, strange expression on his face — a peaceful repose — and yet a je ne sais quoi of mystery and solemnity about him. He was surprised as well as I was. " I am glad to meet you," he said, " and yet sorry to see you thus.

You suffer, I fear. Oh ! frail humanity. What man has to go through in his earth-life ! I wish I could make you well at once, but what you say in the report of your case you have enclosed in your letter shows me it is just a case where I can do least. A broken limb ! Only nature can cure that. But I can relieve your pain." He then questioned me on my symptoms, and, on leaving me, gave me a potion which marvellously relieved my nervous depression. * * * * Day by day news became more anxious in the political world. The war had broken out. The march a Berlin had commenced, and the Besieged in Paris. 11 shouting had even reached us when I was in the hospital. Now the papers formed an occu pation for my thoughts even in my sick-bed. Posela's treatment gave me wonderful relief; but the broken bone needed rest for cure, and I had to stay in my room a prisoner while the busy and memorable scenes of the war — Gravelotte, Mezieres, Sedan — were exciting the minds of every one around me.

I saw nothing of Posela after that visit. I learnt that next day he had started with an ambulance in connexion with the army of Marshal MacMahon. I was really beginning to get very anxious. I at length quite recovered from my illness and was able to get about ; but the line of " blood and iron" bound me, like every one else, within the besieged city. There was no lack of excitement indeed. The news of every day was thrilling, and one often saw terrible scenes of war. It was like being a spectator of a vast tragedy, and the Parisians viewed it as such. Their strong dramatic sentiment was excited and almost amused, at first, by the spectacle of war at their very gates. I could not resist the contagion ; but still I had a good deal to be anxious about, as they had. My autumn term was hopelessly lost at Oxford, of course, and possibly my Lent term would be also, for it looked as if this siege would go on for a long time ; indeed, the Parisians declared they would hold out to the last.

If so, my prospects of getting away were bad indeed, and I was in danger of this wretched Franco- Prussian War doing a permanent injury to my career. I remember one evening walking along the Tuileries gardens watching the flashes of the Prussian artillery, and seeing the French troops marching up to the ramparts, with their drums beating before them. The cannon were roaring as a thunderstorm, and yet the Parisian crowd was looking on calmly, as if merely witnessing a tragedy, instead of themselves being in a beleaguered city. Suddenly I noticed Dr. Posela passing close by me. " Where are you going ? " I said. " To the ramparts. I must do my best for the wounded. Oh, it is a terrible war ! How can men ever carry on and systematise this horrid mode of settling national differences ? Hark ! how the cannon are roaring !

Many a soul is being launched into eternity. How terrible ! How unfit are some to go ! " " You take it more to heart than most Besieged in Paris. 13 around you. But you are in danger in the front." " Do not trouble yourself about me ; think of yourself and of the poor soldiers ; I am in no danger," and he smiled. " Yes ; but you are in the front. The cannon kill doctors as well as combatants. It is really a dreadful system of war — this long range. It is almost worse than the hand to-hand strife of the days of chivalry. Every one suffers. I heard only yesterday of a shell bursting in a bedroom of a school where nine little boys were sleeping, and killing three. I only wish I could get out of the city, for I have nothing to do with this quarrel." " Perhaps not. However, let us have a talk again to-morrow.

Au revoir ! " I went home to my hotel, and as I woke in the night and heard the distant roar of the cannon, and saw the flashes through my window-blind, I thought once or twice of brave, kind Posela, and his errand of mercy in the ramparts.

Chapter III. The Escape

NEXT morning, just after my late dejeuner (of a rather limited and not luxurious character, for food was getting terribly dear in Paris, and the horses were beginning to be doomed to the slaughter-house), I was starting for a lounge in the Rue Rivoli to hear the news, for which every one was almost as eager as for dinner, when I met my eccentric friend. " How have you fared last night ? Will you come in and take some refreshment ? " " I cannot take anything ; but I should like to speak with you." We went upstairs to my bedroom. Posela sat down and looked at me fixedly, in a way that somehow made me very nervous, for he had a wonderful fascination about the eye. I never felt any one's eye like his. " Do you really wish very much to get out of this terrible place ; to go home to your peaceful country from these horrid scenes of war ?

" " Indeed, I do ; I would pay almost any price, short of doing a wrong action, to get out of it. What is it to me ? I am not a Frenchman ; this is not my country. I have no interest in this quarrel, and, if I had, I hate war ; I always have hated it, and now more than ever. It may develope manly qualities, but still it is an evil thing at the best." " You really wish to get out of Paris ? " he asked. " Why ask ? Is it not clear that I must wish to get home ? My whole future may depend on it. If I lose another term my chances of honours are gone. Do, in God's name" (for I was getting excited), "tell me how I can get out." " I cannot do that ; but I can get you out." "How?" " I must not say how. But by to-morrow morning, if you wish it, you may be on your way to England. Only, you must promise me never to ask how I have freed you."

" I promise you. I give you my word — I will give you my word of honour as a Christian, and as an English gentleman — I will never ask you, if only you engage that it is by no wrong or dishonourable act that I am passed out." " I can assure you of that. There is no harm in my mode of liberating you and myself. For I must go with you to England ; that is, if you like my company." "My friend, my liberator, how shall I ever be able to show you how grateful I am ? Perhaps, if you come with me to England, I may strive to show you a tithe of my gratitude. But how can we get out ? " " Hush ! you have promised." " Pardon me ; it was so natural an excla mation. When will you come to take me away ? " "At eight. Be ready; but I can only take you, not your property; that must be left. Adieu!" I can scarcely say how delighted I was at the prospect of deliverance.

The condition seemed curious ; but I was too glad at the hope of escape to trouble myself about it. I packed up my things and locked my portmanteau, and asked my host to take great care of it when I paid my bill, and to let me have it when the siege wras over. "But, monsieur, you cannot possibly pass the Prussian lines. They will not let any one through, I assure you, not even an English man. You will be shot, monsieur." " I cannot tell you how I can get out ; but a friend says he will manage it, and, as he is a very clever fellow, I am too glad to believe him." " Perhaps it may be by a balloon ; but there will not be any balloon going for three days." " Well, I must be off. So please take care of my portmanteau, and I trust you will be spared in this terrible siege." " Ah, monsieur, c'est vraiment terrible," said mine host.